denial

I mentioned in my last post that perhaps the reason why things don’t seem to hurt that much anymore, is because I may be reverting back to some denial. Maybe a very small part of me still holds a little hope. I think there is a tiny flame within me left for C. All it needs is his touch or gentle word and it would ignite into a roaring flame. 

My foolish and romantic heart wants to think that this isn’t over. I want to believe that one day, maybe a few weeks from now, C will change his mind. He’ll come back and tell me he was so wrong to resist me. He was so wrong to resist his dark side that he enjoyed embracing with me. I imagine him coming back and telling me he simply can’t go on without me being his slave. 

Then, I snap back in reality and remind myself that for nearly 3 months, C has been living just fine without me. Don’t be dumb Mina. 

Wednesday, I cleaned the bedroom. For the months (wow, I really can’t believe we didn’t last that long) that I have been C’s slave, I have kept his tools (flogger, whips, canes, crop etc.) underneath my bed. I decided it was time to put them away. C had told me that the tools are all mine to keep. He bought them specifically for using on me and he wishes not to use them on another. Sadly, I fear they will go to waste, for I have absolutely no desire for anyone to use those very tools on me either. I only want his hands to hold those tools. 

It was time for me to pack them away in a bag and store them in our attic. Out of sight, out of mind, right? As the various items lay sprawled on my bed, I couldn’t help but feel a wave of sadness once more and the tears welled up in my eyes. It’s over? It’s really over? Not only can I not stand the thought of not feeling C’s hands on me or feel the various tools being used on me by him, the very thought of no longer being able to express my submissive side really depresses the hell out of me. It’s all over.

I could not hold the crop for very long. It was the crop that he told me, very specifically, was picked out just for me the first day he brought it over. It was the nylon cane that made the tears well up in my eyes the most. The first time he used it on me, is a day I’ll never forget. The nylon cane became my favorite, because it had a very wicked sting to it, which I loved to hate and hated to love. The nylon cane also, left the most beautiful marks on my body. I loved them. I loved the masterpiece of artwork C left on my body. 

So as I looked at all these tools laid out on my bed and held the cane’s end in my fingertips, I felt the overwhelming sadness of never being his slave again and never getting to express my submissive side. My mind began to wander. Does it really have to be over indefinitely? Is this truly the end? I’m going to have needs.. I have needs. Am I really set on never seeing him again? I’m not hurting as bad as I did a few days ago. Maybe in a few months when all the pain is gone, maybe he and I can see each other and act out our D/s needs and leave it at that? Or maybe seeing each other will only rip open the old wound? 

Who knows? I don’t have the answers and I’m not making any rash decisions now. I quickly placed all the tools within a plastic bag and climbed the ladder up to our attic and laid the tools to rest. They, like my submissive side, may never see the light of day again. 

© At Longings End